


The Aftershock

by Evanguelia



Series: Pucker up, Our Passion's Spent [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Depressed Steve Rogers, Divorce, F/M, M/M, Post-Divorce, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Steve Rogers Feels, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, War Veteran Sam Wilson, War Veteran Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:21:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26407918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evanguelia/pseuds/Evanguelia
Summary: Steve doesn’t move for a long time.He stares at the words of the page in front of him until they become blurry, until the letters just blend together into meaningless nonsense. It’s as if the whole page becomes just one big word, sticking out furiously. Divorce. He can’t take his eyes off it.-----Steve had suffered many losses in his life. He had started to believe himself to be particularly resilient. Maybe his sin had been pride.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson
Series: Pucker up, Our Passion's Spent [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1915921
Comments: 13
Kudos: 122





	The Aftershock

**Author's Note:**

> Here is Steve's POV from the events of The Break-Up. Most of the scenes where they're together are cut, so please refer to what happens in The Break-Up to understand what happens in between. This is a long one, as it gathers everything up to Chapter 7 when they meet again, so buckle up!

Steve doesn’t like to burden anyone with his issues. He doesn’t mean to talk about it. He never does, actually. Sometimes, he thinks too hard, and something comes out. It doesn’t come out right either, it’s too real and raw and painful and he knows it. He can tell by the look on people’s faces, their puzzled and worried eyes, the tight lines of their lips when someone doesn’t know how to answer to that.

So, when he says, “I forgot my anniversary and I know Bucky was crying when I got home. Bucky never cries. Natasha was there. Natasha was there and Bucky was crying.”

He’s not really surprised that Peggy is looking at him like he just said the most personal thing he had ever confessed to her. Her mouth is half open, left to hang from a little gasp. This just might be, too. Although, he talks about Bucky all the time. Talking about Bucky is the one thing he’s got that he truly and desperately loves these days. Because Bucky is home, Bucky is safe, Bucky is waiting for him in his made-up little corner of heaven and every time Steve thinks about it, he’s got hope.

“Uh, well,” Peggy says. “That’s quite…That’s worrying, Steve. Did he say anything about the…Did he want something, for the anniversary? What is it, two years now?”

Steve nods, looking back down at his shoes. They’re in the middle of the most boring stake out ever, but it doesn’t mean this is appropriate. This has been eating at him ever since he left Bucky in their home, alone, again, and there hasn’t been a minute he could focus on something else.

“Well, two years is cotton. You can sort something out during your break, can’t you? Something with…Sheets? I’m sure he’ll be grateful either way.”

Steve bites his lip. He knows Peggy hates talking about feelings. He wonders if that’s her stiff upper lip-ness or just her personality. He knows she cares about him and whatever shit he’s always piling on, but he can also tell he’s making her uncomfortable.

“Yeah. I…Thanks, Pegs. I just…miss him a lot, I guess. Sorry if…”

“Oh no,” Peggy hurries to say. “We can talk…Like that. If that’s what you need. I can listen.”

Steve has a little smile because that’s a can of worms she really doesn’t want to open but he doesn’t say anything. He aches for his personal phone that he doesn’t have on him. He wishes he could bring anything of Bucky with him when he goes on these long, drawn out missions. It’s too dangerous and he knows that. The one thing he won’t compromise on is Bucky’s safety. He’s even left his wedding ring and his dog tags in HQ, locked away. Safe. Just one more week.

*****

The week could not have ended sooner. The stake out gave them barely anything new. Steve is tired, just exhausted, down to the bone. All he can think of now is his bed in Brooklyn and Bucky’s warm smile.

He knows that, in all likeliness, Bucky is still pissed off. Bucky never really gets pissed off out loud these days. He broods, if anything. Steve knows he puts all his ducks in a row before he starts arguments now. They both value the little time they get together. Steve wants to have more to give to Bucky and he will, in due time, but for now, he wants to keep the peace too.

Peggy and him pack their bags in silence. Steve can tell Peggy is ready to go home too. She’s as worn out as he is and he’s leaving her in charge of the whole operation for a month. It’s not exactly fair. She shoulders that weight beautifully though. She doesn’t let anything show.

The ride to the airport is just as quiet. They still have to keep up the appearance of newlyweds, so Steve opens the door of the car for Peggy and takes their luggage in his hand. They walk through the airport close together. Peggy is on top of the casual touches, pointing and chatting like they’re just excited to be going on holiday. Steve nods, agrees, whatever it is that they need to do. He’s already halfway home.

Once they get out of security, they walk past the big store fronts and Steve recognizes that one jewelry store that Bucky loves. Last winter, just before Christmas, they had been walking by fifth avenue and Bucky had talked about this bracelet that everyone raved about on the internet. Steve had only been half listening and had later on got him something else. But maybe Bucky still cared about that bracelet.

Steve nudges Peggy towards the Cartier store. She raises an eyebrow.

“Do you want to see something, darling?” she asks calmly.

“Yeah, it’s, uh,” he can’t really find the words to explain. ‘I need to make it up to Bucky’ doesn’t really cover it.

Peggy nods anyway, getting the meaning. Steve loves that about Peggy. Sometimes, he doesn’t need to explain himself, she fills out the gaps herself.

A sales assistant greets them. Steve asks her about their men’s range of bracelet. The lady guides them towards a glistening counter. She talks about the most popular kinds, the love one, which Steve is pretty sure is the one Bucky liked and some other ones he doesn’t have the patience to care for.

“Are you sure that’s the sort of things he’d like?” Peggy narrows her eyes at the rows upon rows of jewelry.

“He’s basically a magpie. He loves anything that shines,” Steve says fondly. “Which one do you think, though? Aquamarine is his birthstone. What about this one?” He points to the one that has all sort of blue stones. Aquamarine must be among them, surely. Also, it would match Bucky’s fancy blue watch. Whatever that is called.

“It’s lovely,” Peggy says flatly.

Steve considers the options again. The lady comes back with a big smile. She probably thinks Steve is buying one for Peggy too. He doesn’t look at either of them, staring at the bracelets.

“I’m not sure of his size,” Steve comments, holding up his own wrist. He can’t remember for the life of him if Bucky’s wrists are bigger than his or not. He barely sees Bucky nowadays. The guilt never leaves him. “Can I try it on me and have it tightened if it doesn’t fit?”

The lady nods. She’s nice enough. Steve asked to have it wrapped. She obliges. When she comes back, she gives them her best smile and says, “I hope the gentleman enjoys his gift. And I hope you guys will get your own set soon.”

Peggy reacts quicker than Steve. “Oh, thank you. Have a lovely day.”

Steve is handed the bag and they leave quietly. Peggy links her arm with Steve and beams at him. He hasn’t noticed anyone following them, but he can trust Peggy’s sixth sense. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, and they find their way to their gate.

*****

Steve falls asleep on the plane. Technically, he should have stayed awake, just in case, but Peggy kept watch. Once they get back to the ground, Peggy huddles close to him, holding onto his waist. He reflects the movement, finding her strong shoulders and grabbing tight.

“Ten o’clock, the baron is here,” she whispers in his ear.

Fuck. In New York? Why?

Steve manages a laugh and presses a kiss on Peggy’s forehead. She smiles and extirpates from his grip to go find their luggage. Steve acts as casual as he can. He doesn’t turn around to see where that bastard Zemo is hiding but he stays alert. With enough luck, they can trace his steps through the security camera. But that would mean he wouldn’t be get back to Brooklyn on time. He had promised Bucky.

He unclenches his jaw when Peggy walks back towards him. He even smiles, even if it’s tight and puts her back in his arms.

“We’re not engaging now,” he whispers close to her.

“Of course not. We’re going home.”

She means HQ but Steve can’t stop thinking about Bucky. He pulls back a stray strand of Peggy’s hair behind her ear. He catches the sight of Zemo behind her.

“Let’s go,” he says flatly.

They make their way towards the exit, going at a leisurely pace. There’s supposed to be a SHIELD agent in a cab coming to pick them up but now that they’ve found the trace of Zemo, they can’t just head back. Peggy clicks her tongue and pretends to adjust her shoe. Steve sees the baron, blissfully unaware, walking past them. Steve’s blood boils. This is the man who had Bucky, who took him, who tortured him…He could grab him, right there and then, smash his face against the conveyor belt…Who would stop him? Maybe he’d get arrested but Zemo would be long gone by then…

Peggy tugs on his sleeve. “Darling?” she says strongly.

He can’t look away.

“Kiss me,” she orders him.

“What?”

He barely has time to react before Peggy’s hands find purchase on his neck and pull him down to kiss him. On instinct, he wraps his arms around her and brings her closer. They just stand there, their luggage discarded by their sides, their lips pressed together. They could be reunited lovers, they could be anyone. No one is looking.

“Eyes on the prize, captain,” Peggy continues before sliding her lips from his ear to his throat, laying down open mouthed kisses that he knows will leave marks. Goddamn red lipstick she wears everywhere.

It’s a good plan though because Steve can see where Zemo is heading. He’s going to a car. He’s staying in New York. They can get him. They will get him. Finally. This bastard will get what has been coming to him for twelve years.

Peggy lets go of him and readjusts his collar. She smiles, proud of herself.

“A job well done,” she declares.

They walk hand in hand to the taxi line. Steve, slowly, registers all the information that’s now available to him. Peggy knew about Zemo and said nothing. Peggy most definitely had a side mission he wasn’t aware of. Peggy is very aware of who Zemo is to Steve and what catching him means to him. He’s also sure that it’s the reason she said nothing.

They find the SHIELD car. They don’t talk until they’re in and the car sets off.

“Buying the gift was a mistake,” Peggy says once they’re out of view.

Steve looks at himself in the rearview mirror. He’s covered in bright lipstick marks, from his ear down to his clavicle. “Jesus, did you have to make it look like you mauled me?”

Peggy smirks. “Had to make it look real, didn’t I?”

“I used our aliases credit card anyway, what’s the big deal? Zemo wasn’t in Chicago.”

Peggy glares at him.

“Was he?” he presses. “The whole time? Why the fuck we were not staking him instead then?”

He thinks of that whole week he spent, uselessly watching every movement of some Hydra’s third-in-command, someone who doesn’t matter in the slightest, who gave them nothing. The whole time, he could have been in Brooklyn, trying to fix his fucked-up marriage.

“Seems likely,” is all what Peggy says.

Steve feels suddenly burned by rage. He wants to be as far away from SHIELD as possible. He bets that it’s Fury who gave Peggy a side mission. That man loves to test him. Steve is sick of these stupid double crossing. If he hasn’t proved his worth by now, he doesn’t know what else will do.

“Hey,” he calls, banging on the partition. “Agent. Do you have any wipes in there?”

The partition opens. The agent shakes his head. Steve sighs. “Ok, well, drop us at my place. I’m not going in to talk to Fury looking like this.”

Peggy frowns at him.

“You have any wipes?” he says, trying his best to rile her up. At this point, anything will do to eject some of his anger away from his own skin. He feels himself vibrating with it.

“In the trunk,” she sighs, “we can just get the handover done at yours, I guess. It’s quiet enough.”

“Agent?” Steve calls again. “You know the way to Bushwick?”

*****

Steve exits the car, trying to pull his collar up. He feels ridiculous. Peggy is, as always, very detached from the situation. He almost wants to yell at her. What is she hiding, anyway? Why hiding it from him, he’s got enough clearance. He’s her CO.

He doesn’t dwell on his resentment. He goes up the steps of his brownstone when his eyes meet Bucky’s and he feels his chest turn on, like he had put it off for a week. He lets himself smile. A real smile, something he can’t help, something he doesn’t have to force. He can’t wait to hold Bucky in his arms. Breathe him in. Look at him while Bucky closes his eyes, tilts his head up and grins. Hear him say, “what you’re waiting for, Rogers?” He’s missed him so sharply. Every time he goes away, he doesn’t believe it’ll be as bad and every time, it is. It’s like he only feels like himself when Bucky is close.

“Buck,” he says because there’s nothing else he can think of saying.

But his brain comes back online, and he remembers he’s going to have explain the mess on his face. All the while Bucky is probably still reeling off the forgotten anniversary. Steve also just remembers about his phone that’s still in HQ, in Manhattan. He didn’t think Bucky would be there. He didn’t text. Bucky is about to murder him, Steve is sure.

Bucky only grunts. He looks very pale, a little green. He pushes past Steve and Peggy and goes to wait by a car. Steve realizes that’s a delivery driver. Peggy, luckily, shoves him toward the apartment.

Steve opens the door and turns to Peggy quickly. “Just let me explain it to him. He’ll get it. He just…He might still be…You know, I told you.”

“Of course, I understand,” Peggy says mildly.

Bucky finally pushes the door in, throws the bag of delivery on the table and stares at them intently. Steve swallows, trying his best to look innocent. He knows it won’t do. It doesn’t work with anyone that has known his face for twenty-seven years.

“Buck, I know how this looks,” he starts.

*****

Steve doesn’t move for a long time.

He stares at the words of the page in front of him until they become blurry, until the letters just blend together into meaningless nonsense. It’s as if the whole page becomes just one big word, sticking out furiously. Divorce. He can’t take his eyes off it.

At one point, he must have sunk to the floor, he realizes, because his knees ache and his back is killing him. He crumples the papers and tosses them aside. The sun is going down. He came back around 11AM. He has no idea how long it’s been since Bucky packed his bag and walked out.

Bucky. All he wants is to see him. Talk to him. They can fix this. If this was supposed to be a final warning, Steve heard it loud and clear. They can move on from this. They can build on it. They can be better. There is not one thing that Steve can think of that he wouldn’t give Bucky. Maybe that’s fucked up, maybe it shouldn’t be like this, but Steve knows he’s failed Bucky. He’d do anything to make it up to him, to fix it. They were happy, before.

He remembers the time when Bucky proposed. The one time they had managed to get out of the country together, they had gone to Sicily. They had sailed to this island, a little rock in the middle of the Mediterranean, with this big and old fortress at the top. Steve had annoyed Bucky until he had agreed to climb up there to watch the sunrise. “Why not the sun _set_? People watch the sun _set_ on the beach. Why do I have to wake up at the crack of dawn on _holiday_?” Bucky hadn’t stopped complaining the whole way up there. But then, as they sat down on the hill, watching the sun come up from the sea, Bucky had become so silent, so still, taken in by the beauty of the sight and Steve had smiled. He had rubbed a hand on the back of Bucky’s neck, just as quiet and Bucky had turned around, suddenly blurting out, “marry me”.

“What?” Steve replied, confused.

“Marry me,” Bucky repeated in a shaky voice. He sounded just as confused by his own words. “I mean it. I’ve got…I’ve left the rings at the hotel. But I, uh, I bought them. I mean I got one. For you. So, will you?”

“What?”

Bucky groaned and hid his face in his hands. Steve pried them off to look at him, overcome with emotion. It was the Bucky-est type of proposal. Spontaneous, a little anxious, but so full of meaning.

“This is terrible, I’m so sorry,” Bucky went on, “you deserve so much better than this.”

“You got rings? Plural? Are we eloping in Sicily, Buck?”

Bucky groaned a second time, even louder. “I didn’t know what was supposed to happen! Do we both wear engagement rings? There’s no manual for this shit.”

Steve laughed, high and bright because he had never felt this full, this content. There wouldn’t have been a thing to be changed.

“You’re kind of killing me here, Steve,” Bucky mumbled.

Steve brought Bucky’s hands to his mouth and kissed all of his knuckles, one by one, with all the reverence he was capable of. It had never been easy to express their feelings for either of them. They had stumbled into this relationship so young, so innocently and now there was a sea of memories, of affections, of dedication that surrounded them and how could anyone put that into words, really? Steve didn’t know where to start.

“I don’t know, Buck,” he said instead, with a grin, “don’t you think we’re moving a bit too fast here?”

Bucky took his hands away and pushed on Steve’s chest, his eyes wide and horrified. “You know what, forget it, don’t marry me. Can’t think of anything else I’d rather not do.”

But Steve had caught him again, pulling Bucky toward him with a hand on his neck and the other on his shoulder. He kissed him, trying to convey everything that was happening beneath his chest in the touch of his lips. Bucky opened his mouth and held on to him just as strongly. It was perfect. They were alone, at the top of the world, the sun going higher by the minute, illuminating the sea to congratulate them.

“I love you, Bucky,” Steve said quietly, “I can’t wait to marry you.”

“Yeah?” Bucky whispered back, his eyes still closed, only one inch away from his lips.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Bucky opened his eyes and traced the line of Steve’s jaw, a soft smile tugging his lips upward. “That’s my line, sweetheart. I should have…I don’t know. Is it…”

“Buck, I’m not marrying you for your lines.”

“I’ve got lines,” he protested.

“I know and they’re all terrible.”

Bucky chuckled and looked away again, settling his cheek on Steve’s shoulder, his long hair dancing along with the wind. Steve pressed another kiss to his forehead, wrapping a hand around him.

And this…This had happened just three years ago. Nothing had changed. Steve loves him all the same. How could he not? He could…There was nothing he wouldn’t do if Bucky would give him the chance. He could show him. He could be better.

Steve stands up and sets himself into motion. He needs to clean his fucking face, get to HQ, get his phone, and find Bucky. Easy.

*****

Steve tries to call Bucky about a dozen times. No answer, of course. He knows very well where Bucky is. At his fucking lawyer’s place. The signature on the divorce agreement has been burned in his brain. What if Natasha had been the one to convince Bucky of this? What if she had pushed him that way when all they really needed was to work on their communication a little? Steve allows himself to resent Natasha. She doesn’t deserve it, not really, but if he doesn’t, he’ll implode and right now, he needs to focus on getting Bucky back home.

He calls Natasha at the office, but even workaholic lawyers leave after 8PM. He keeps trying to reach Bucky, but he notices now that the profile picture on WhatsApp is gone, that the messages don’t double tick. Bucky’s blocked him. Bucky doesn’t want to talk. He understands, he does, but he’s going to go out of his mind if they don’t see each other.

Finally, _finally_ , his phone pings and it’s Natasha.

_I’m sorry Steve but we can’t talk anymore. If you need recommendations for a lawyer, call the office._

Steve barely holds onto the phone. He wants to smash it apart. He wants to see those words disappear, one by one. He’s not doing this. He’s not humoring her. They are not divorcing without even talking about it. Bucky can’t just take off and expect him to roll over and play dead. He calls Natasha. No answer. He’s seething.

_Let me talk to him. He blocked my number._

_He’s sick and he’s sleeping. Get a lawyer and we’ll talk._

He remembers now, how pale and fragile Bucky had looked. He thinks of how he didn’t even notice. How Bucky must always be so alone whenever he’s sick because Steve isn’t there. How he used to get so grumpy and miserable when he was younger, curling up under a thick layer of covers for days. How only his ma’s soup made him feel any better. How he blamed anyone and anything for his illness, how Steve used to hold him and pet his hair and listen for his ragged breaths. He hasn’t been there for him in that way, in _years_. The guilt chokes him.

You let me go, Bucky had said. This is complacence, he had chastised. Maybe he had been right, maybe Steve hadn’t been as attentive as he would have liked but he could do better.

It’s close to midnight now but there must be some delis opened. He can get Bucky some soup. He can arrange him on their bed, look after him, make sure he gets better. They can just go back to what it was, forget about the papers, forget about Peggy, everything and anything that isn’t them.

*****

Maybe it’s a little ridiculous to wait on the steps of Natasha and Clint’s apartment. Maybe it’s creepy too. It’s not like he’d be able to sleep any time soon. No one will talk to him. He can wait there, what’s the difference? They have to walk the dog at some point. He knows Clint is off until next week, so he’d be the one to come out. Clint is the third party in this whole debacle, surely he’d be more amicable to Steve’s cause. All he has to do is wait a while. He can do that.

He doesn’t have to wait all that long. He doesn’t feel the cold, not really. He plays all the games on his phone until the battery dies. He ignores the noise around him, the people passing him by. He knows that no one in New York will look at him twice anyway. And then, just before he feels like his body might just shut down too, there’s a foot pressed against his back.

He’s ready to argue with whoever decided to bother him. It’s not like he’s in the way of anything. But it’s Bucky. Steve can’t believe his luck. The sun is just rising, illuminating Bucky’s tired face. Something wraps around Steve’s heart and pulls, so tightly. He loses his breath. He’s so overcome. He wipes at his face, hoping he looks better than he feels.

He chokes out, “Bucky.”

That’s all there is to it. His beginning and his end.

“What are you doing here?” Bucky says, too sharply.

Steve’s heart dislodges from his chest and it sinks and sinks.

*****

Steve can’t take his eyes off the box. What an idiot he is. A goddamn moron. What was the bracelet going to change? What was him loving Bucky going to change? What was seventeen years of relationship, a whole life together, going to change? Bucky had the papers written. Bucky had Natasha write the papers, all proper and admissible in court too. Bucky was done. Bucky was gone. Bucky didn’t love him anymore. Bucky wasn’t happy.

Bucky, Bucky, _Bucky_.

His mind screams the name over and over, like static. He can’t escape all that noise. He can’t move. There’s tar in his limbs, pining him down to where he sits. Time goes by. How long, he doesn’t know. Bucky was there, right there, in front of him and now he left him. Steve replays their conversation in his head a thousand times. He should have convinced him. He should have promised something else. He should have made him stay. He should have looked for him, he should have never left that fucking mountain, he should have never let Bucky get taken…

 _Bucky_. Bucky left. Bucky wasn’t coming back. Bucky was alive, Steve had found him. It had been years. It had been days. It had been nothing. But it had been everything. Bucky died and Bucky lived again. Bucky loved him and Bucky left him.

*****

Peggy comes back to their apartment. Steve and _Bucky_ ’s apartment. She apologizes. She’s got nothing to be sorry for. It was all a misunderstanding. Steve doesn’t tell her about how he ripped apart the divorce paper, inch by inch, until it was confetti. How he had watched it get scattered in the wind. He doesn’t tell her about the piercing ache in his chest and how angry he is. Always is. How he doesn’t know how to handle that rage.

And fucking Zemo is in New York. He can focus on how he’s looking forward to ripping him apart, inch by inch too. A whole year he had had Bucky. Steve hadn’t been there, then, either. The guilt chokes him, relentlessly, blocking his throat forcefully like he’s being waterboarded, over and over.

Peggy says nothing. They do the handover. Steve doesn’t ask about what her mission was. He doesn’t care anymore. He’ll have time for that. Once he can remember how to function like a human being again, then he can remember how to be a captain. Until then, Peggy, Fury, all of them can go to hell. They can wait.

*****

Steve has never stayed in the apartment on his own. He’s used to passing by when he knows Bucky won’t be there, just to get some more clothes, take a real shower, sleep for an hour, and find Bucky’s smell in the sheets. It used to be his guiltiest pleasure. Come back for an hour, live in Bucky’s space, pretend he had never left, then disappear again.

But now, he’s alone. The apartment doesn’t feel lived in. He almost wants to take their pictures down. He’s started to avoid looking up at the walls. Their marriage, Bucky’s graduation. They were happy then. Were they? They never talked. They never said anything to each other. They were so afraid. Terrified of the possibility of losing each other. Or maybe it was just Steve. That had happened in the end. Bucky had grown tired. Bucky had left.

Bucky was gone.

*****

Steve shows up on Sam’s door one morning when he’s feeling like he’s going to explode. He knows he could have called. Some things are just better said in person.

Sam looks at him quizzically. “Everything ok?”

Steve feels like if he says it out loud, the universe will collapse. He’s got no words. He shrugs, doesn’t meet Sam’s eyes, turns around to look ahead of him, ahead to nothing at all.

“I, uh,” he starts. “You talk to Bucky recently?”

Sam puts a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Something happened to Barnes?”

Steve shifts his weight from foot to foot. He feels itchy all over, as if he’d need to get all his skin off to get some relief. He can’t stop fidgeting.

“No, no,” Steve says flatly, “he, uh, he moved out.”

“He…what? Why?”

Steve finally faces Sam, shrugs again. Sam looks at him like Steve just admitted he went out to defeat alien invasions with SHIELD.

“I guess you’d say we broke up.”

“You guess…what is happening right now? Barnes? Broke up with you? He moved out? You…wait a minute. Get inside.”

Steve obeys sheepishly. He hates this with a passion. He doesn’t want to put his issues on Sam. He doesn’t have anyone else to turn to. He’s got three and a half weeks left of leave and there’s no one he can talk to. He can’t call Bucky’s mom, because he’s very sure that Bucky hasn’t said anything to her yet. He can’t tell Becca either, because she’s pregnant now, she’s going to give birth in a month, she’s busy and god, Steve won’t even meet the baby. All the family he has left is Bucky’s.

Sam sits him down and gives him a glass of water. He stares at him with a pained look, like he cares, like he wants Steve to get it all out if he’s got to. Steve doesn’t deserve Sam, just like he didn’t deserve Bucky.

“Hey, man, are you ok?” Sam says quietly. “What happened?”

Steve doesn’t know how or why but all of sudden, a sob breaks out of his throat and it’s a dam has been opened and he can’t stop. Sam opens his arms wide and lets him cry for as long as he likes. This is pathetic. Steve hasn’t cried like this since his mother died. Since Bucky died. Bucky’s not dead. Bucky is at Natasha’s. Bucky’s blocked his number.

Steve can’t even say it. He can’t think of how to pronounce the words. Sam understands, like he always does. He doesn’t say it either and Steve is glad. He cries for a long, long while. An embarrassing while. Sam lets go. He serves him some pie and ice cream and manages to make Steve laugh, although with a face full of snot and tears, cracking some joke. Steve feels so lightheaded, like he’s going to pass out any minute.

“It’s going to be alright, buddy,” Sam promises.

Steve doesn’t believe him. He nods anyway.

*****

Things change and things don’t. Once the pain dulls, the rage replaces it. Steve thrums with it. He becomes very well acquainted with everyone at their condo’s gym. He tries to exhaust himself into sleep. It doesn’t work. The slightest thing sets him off. He hates himself for his stupid temper. He’s insufferable, he knows that, but he doesn’t care.

Why would he care anyway? To Bucky, he’s as good as dead. Peggy is busy playing the emperor’s lap dog at SHIELD. Sam is trying, god bless his heart, but Steve starts to avoid him too, just to spare him. Why should he care? If he disappeared into thin air, this very minute, who would notice?

He’s alone in his apartment for days and days, staring at the ceiling. He smashes all the glasses they own one day, because he’s so bored and he wants to feel some release. He feels so stupid afterwards, because he’s barefoot in a kitchen covered in glass and he’s alone. He walks around, every step leaving a trace of bigger shadow of blood. He doesn’t clean it up for another couple of days. It’s not like anyone else but him would know.

There’s one day, in the fog, where he scrubs the whole house down. He puts all of Bucky’s clothes neatly away. He irons all his shirts. In his head, this might lure Bucky back in. In reality, on his phone, he’s still blocked on every single social media. He cooks complicated dishes that taste like ashes in his mouth and always sets two plates. No one knows about that either. Bucky doesn’t come back.

*****

He runs for hours and hours throughout Brooklyn. Every day, he runs maybe five to ten miles. He runs until he can’t feel his lungs anymore and he can focus on that pain instead of the noise in his brain. Sometimes, he hopes he’ll bump into Bucky. But then, he thinks, Bucky will only talk about the divorce. Bucky won’t hear about what’s Steve has been up to so there’s no point making up stories about how he’s been spending his time.

He comes home one day, drenched, to find Clint rummaging in the closet in the doorway, where they keep their suitcases. He almost gives in to the urge of jumping on him, demanding to know about Bucky. Even the rage has dulled now. He only clears his throat and Clint barely registers it.

“Oh, hey, cap,” he greets mildly, “were you running a marathon or something?”

“Or something,” Steve replies flatly, “what are you doing here?”

Clint pulls out the biggest suitcase he can find and takes a picture of it. “Sorry, Barnes said you definitely wouldn’t be here. I’m the designated mule, you see.”

Steve only stares, breathing hard through his nose. He can stay calm. Clint’s phone pings. He pulls the suitcase towards the bedroom and opens it.

“Bucky can’t come to pick up his own shit?” he barks out.

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger,” Clint says, holding his hands up. He goes into the bedroom and Steve hears him open the wardrobe and the clinks of clothes hangers being removed.

Steve tries his best to relax his jaw, but he can’t also control his fists. He sits down at the dinner table. He clears his throat again. He remembers how to make himself act like an actual human being and cracks his neck.

“How is he?” he says as calmly as he can manage.

“Oh, you know,” Clint calls, not abandoning his task at hand, “moping a lot in my guest bedroom. Him and Nat are watching a lot of romcoms. Doesn’t help with the crying though, if I’m honest. How about you, how are you holding up?”

Steve exhales deeply. “Fine,” he grits out.

“Yeah, you look it, cap,” Clint chuckles. Steve hears the suitcase being zipped shut. “Sorry for literally breaking in. Although, I have Barnes’ key, so nothing illegal here.”

Clint rolls the suitcase through the living room, stops in front of Steve. He claps a hand on his shoulder. “I know literally everyone will say this to you, but it does get better after a while. You gotta let him go. Get yourself a lawyer, sign the papers. This, what you’re doing right now, it only messes you up more.”

“That’s what he told he wants?” Steve mutters.

“Hey, don’t involve me in this. Only because I’m married to Nat, doesn’t mean I know everything. I’ll see you at the office?”

“Yeah, Barton,” he says with another deep breath. “Will you tell him to talk to me? I just…”

Clint squeezes his shoulder. “Buddy, don’t do this to yourself, I promise it’s not worth it,” he cuts in.

Steve nods but doesn’t meet his eyes. He doesn’t watch Clint leave. He stays in his chair, wondering how he’s still solid, how he’s still a full human being when it feels like all his insides have been ripped out of him.

*****

It takes Sam another week before he just walks right in his apartment. He opens all the curtains and the windows. He empties the fridge from all the food Steve forgot to eat or throw away. He forces Steve into the shower, forces him to eat a full meal then he drops a couple of business cards on the table in front of him.

“Lawyers. For you to call,” he says, tapping at each of them, “you can have your pick but this guy,” he goes on pointing at some black laminated card, “comes highly recommended. Hire him and get him to talk to Natasha.”

“No,” Steve says straight away.

“Why the fuck not?” Sam counters immediately. “Do you think Barnes is coming back? Because he’s not.”

“You talk to him?”

Sam has a deep sigh. “No, Steve. Neither do you. Do you know why?”

Steve doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Do you know why?” Sam repeats.

“Why,” Steve grinds out.

“Because he broke up with your sad looking ass and he doesn’t want you to convince him to take him back, alright? Give it time and I’m sure you’ll be friends again, one day. But for now, you need to get your own lawyer. You have to get this sorted. You can’t half live your life just because he left you. Understand?”

Steve finally looks up and tries his best to smile. “I thought I was your CO.”

“Not anymore, you’re not,” Sam chuckles, “you can do this, Steve. Your life doesn’t end with Barnes. Are you going to call the guy?”

Steve nods, taking the card in his hand. Desperately, corruptly, he thinks at least, if he gets a lawyer and signs the papers, he’ll get to see Bucky again.

“And how about shaving?” Sam calls from the bathroom. Steve hadn’t even noticed he had left the room. “Looks like there’s a wild animal living on your face!”

*****

The lawyer guy, Loki, he’s called, is fine enough. He goes through the agreement with Steve, with whatever it is that Natasha decided was fair for him to have after seventeen years of relationship. His whole life has been dissected on these stupid papers and he’s supposed to listen to it composedly.

Sometimes, he’s amazed by his own resolve. Years ago, he would have just camped outside of Clint and Natasha’s place until he had dragged Bucky home. But then again, he would have never forced Bucky to do anything he didn’t want. Bucky didn’t want him anymore. That wasn’t his fight anymore.

They set the meeting through the lawyers. He can’t demand that Bucky unblocks him. Once the papers are signed, they’re both free to do whatever they want. Nothing will hold them back. Steve feels in a daze, like nothing he’s seeing is real. It takes him a long time to ground himself. Any minute now, he’ll see Bucky again. It’s been a whole month. It feels like it’s been five hundred years. He can’t make his hands stop shaking. He can’t do this…

He looks at his watch. They must have arrived already. He adjusts his button-down shirt in the bathroom’s mirror. He feels so constricted. He never wears those. Last time he saw Bucky, he was wearing one. It’s stupid. He walks into the conference room and there he is.

Bucky.

His heart malfunctions. It launches right up into his throat. He can’t speak. He sits down awkwardly, while everyone stares at him silently. Bucky hasn’t changed at all. His hair is neatly combed, it curls on the bottom, resting atop his shoulders. Steve wants nothing more than run his fingers through, remembering how soft it is. Bucky, nagging him, “well, it’s not for free, Rogers, do you know how long it takes for me to look like this?” He smiles, despite himself. Bucky doesn’t smile back. He looks down at his shoes. The lawyers have been talking but Steve hasn’t heard a word.

“Could we just have a moment, please?” Steve asks gently.

Bucky stares at him, finally, and Steve feels his chest opening up again.

*****

When Steve gets home that day, after hours of wandering around New York, trying his best to avoid coming home to the emptiest apartment on Earth, he’s surprised to see a familiar head of thick, curly hair on the steps of the brownstone. Bucky’s youngest sister, Elisabeth, perks up when she sees him and jumps up in his arms.

Steve has no idea whether she knows about the divorce yet or not. Bucky hasn’t been close to his family since they got back home, except maybe for Becca, because they went to college together. Steve has tried his best to stay in touch with them, especially Elisabeth, as she’s still so young and impressionable. She’s in college herself now and Steve hasn’t seen her for months. Another little bubble of guilt. He should have called her. She deserves more than that.

“Steve, hey!” she greets happily as she lets go. “I tried to call Bucky, but he won’t pick up his phone, that idiot. Neither do you, by the way? What’s up?”

Steve swallows. “Lizzie, listen,” he starts, “why don’t we get inside, ok?”

He waits until she sits down on the sofa, all blissfully unaware of his internal turmoil. She doesn’t notice how there’s no more pictures on the walls, how half the tableware is missing, how there’s no more of Bucky’s clothes anymore because Clint has been making trips to the apartment every week now. She smiles brightly, talks a mile a minute about school, her friends, whatever it is that Steve has forgotten about in the last month.

“Anyway, I’m starving. When is Bucky getting home?”

Isn’t that the million-dollar question.

“He’s not,” Steve says, maybe too quietly.

“What do you mean? Is he at Becca’s?”

Steve shakes his head. “He doesn’t live here anymore. We, uh…We’re not together anymore, Lizzie.”

She gasps, raising both her hands to her mouth. “No way!” she exclaims. “You broke up? Since when?”

Steve sits down next to her and squeezes her shoulder lightly. She scans his face intently. He almost wants to turn around and yell, prank! It’s so surreal. He’s never thought he’d have to do this in his life.

“I really, really want you to know that it’s ok. You can still come here whenever you want, it doesn’t change anything about what we are, alright? You’re still my best girl, you have to know that.”

“But…No. He did this? Bucky broke up with you?” Her voice isn’t steady, her lower lip is shaking, like she’s about to break into sobs like she used to when she was a baby.

Steve opens his arms and holds her tightly. It’s almost embarrassing that she figured out that Bucky was the one to leave and not him. He doesn’t want her to believe Bucky was the bad guy either. After all, he’s her actual brother.

“We came to a mutual agreement,” he lies, “we’re both fine. It’s going to take some getting used to but we’re going to be ok, I promise.”

“Does mom know?” she says tightly. She’s crying now. Steve feels helpless, he just pets her hair soothingly. “What about Becca, does she know? Why does no one tell me anything? I’m not a kid anymore, you know.”

“Of course, I know. It’s just…You know how Bucky is. You have to give him some time, that’s all.”

She nods against Steve’s chest, holding on to him desperately. “I won’t tell,” she promises.

“Thank you for that, Lizzie. He’ll appreciate it, I know he will.”

“I’m sorry he left you,” she goes on, “he doesn’t deserve you.”

Steve sighs. He holds to her tighter. He has never heard anything further from the truth.

*****

Steve has been spending some nights in Sam’s apartment. He’s supposed to move in with him fully now that the interior design guy has got all the upstaging plans set up. He can’t really bring himself to leave entirely.

All his stuff is getting packed. Whatever Bucky has left there is still in the closet. All his books, all the memories he’s accumulated over the years. So many unfinished projects. Things Steve had no idea Bucky had taken an interest to. Maybe it was just Natasha’s stuff. Either way, he doesn’t know. He realizes that Bucky was right. They’ve become strangers, despite their efforts. Or maybe Steve hadn’t made that much of an effort. Maybe he had walked away, too. Maybe whatever they had, it had vanished, evaporated into the air, and neither of them had noticed until it was too late. Still, Steve’s heart bleeds and bleeds, like it would never stop running.

He’s never been a good sleeper. It got worse with the war, with Bucky’s death, with SHIELD…Nothing has ever helped. Now, it’s the worse that it’s ever been. He doesn’t sleep for days, then crashes for eighteen hours. Sam hasn’t seen it happened yet, but Steve knows he will want to talk about it. That’s why Steve has been staying in the condo most of the week. It’s just easier.

Steve has put a stupid sitcom on, hoping that the recorded laugh will point out the jokes so he can try and pretend to also find it funny. It’s half past two in the morning and he’s on his fifth cup of coffee. If he drinks a lot of caffeine, he can also pretend that’s what keeps him up. He doesn’t even know why he keeps up all these excuses when no one is going to ask, no one will know but him, because he’s alone. He’s in the condo he bought with Bucky, alone, still vibrating out of skin anytime he hears someone walk in the hallway, thinking it could be Bucky coming back. It’s all fucking insane. He can’t help it. He doesn’t even feel the heartache anymore. It’s a general numbness that has replaced it. A whole load of nothing.

His phone buzzes by his side. He takes a deep breath. It’s probably Sam. Who else would text so late at night? Except Bucky. But Bucky has had him blocked for the past month so…He drains his coffee, sets it aside and finally unlocks his phone.

 _Hey_ , says Bucky.

Steve has to stare at his phone for a long while, trying to figure out if that’s a hallucination or if that’s really happening. All the messages that Steve sent in between still haven’t been received, so that means he was blocked. Bucky unblocked him. Why? To say hey? To congratulate him on the divorce? But Steve isn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He replies the same three letters. Idiot. That’s eloquent. What would Bucky have to reply to that. Bucky is probably blocking him again right now.

_Can’t sleep._

It’s not a question. Steve wonders for a second if Bucky is struggling just as much with the situation as he is. Steve doesn’t even think before pressing send.

_Me neither._

_How’s single life treating you?_ Bucky types back. Steve can almost imagine Bucky’s smirk. What a dick. It makes him smile too. He looks up at the empty living room in front of him. The quiet tone of the characters on the TV is so deafening.

 _Not great. Pretty lonely_. _You?_

_Not what it’s cracked up to be if you ask me._

Steve’s heart, which he could have almost believed would stop bothering him sooner than later, aches. He thinks, stupidly, if they’re both so unhappy, surely, they should fix this. They should sit down again, talk it out. Maybe they shouldn’t be married, maybe that much is true, but they could still have a relationship. See each other. He misses Bucky with every bone in his body.

He’s learned now that he has to give Bucky space. That Bucky will run away with every chance he’s given. He doesn’t push. Instead he types, after maybe a minute too long of nothing, _Wanna come pick up your stuff tomorrow?_

Tomorrow is Sunday. It’s supposed to be his deadline for moving out. It’s as good a day as any.

 _Sure_. _Becca_ _is here for the weekend and I’ll take any excuses to not go shopping for nursery furniture_.

Of course, Steve realizes. The baby. Something digs at his chest again. Becca’s son would have been his nephew. He had been so excited about the news. Bucky had pretended that he wasn’t, that he didn’t care for babies and all their needs and their adorable little limbs, but Steve hadn’t been fooled. Bucky is going to be a great uncle. On his own. Away from Steve.

He wants to try for light. He sends some laughing emojis. Maybe he can fool Bucky enough.

_Text me whenever you want to come by. I’ll be there the whole day then Sam is picking me up._

_Yeah, no problem_. _See you then._

This is it. This is all he’ll get. But if Steve plays it right, maybe they can keep at this. Be friends. It would be a start. It would be better than this nothingness, this horrifying limbo he’s been stuck in.

_Goodnight Buck. See you tomorrow._

He feels a lot lighter. Tomorrow, he will see Bucky again.

*****

Steve had all these conversations starters prepared. Hey, how you’ve been? I’m not too bad, been keeping busy. You know how it is. He had prepared himself to act so casual and composed. Bucky had barely looked at him. All they had done was exchange grunts. Then Sam had called, and Steve couldn’t leave. His legs wouldn’t obey him. So, he stood there, in the doorway, holding hands with Bucky.

What was supposed to happen really? They couldn’t have shaken hands and wished each other the best. Kissing Bucky was like second nature. At this point, Bucky’s body was just an extension of Steve’s. He could draw it all from memory. Every muscle, every angle, every crevasse. He had kissed every inch of Bucky. For all Bucky had changed over the years, had grown, had blemished, had withered, had flourished, Steve knew him just as well.

Now, it was over. They had said their farewells. Now, Steve would wait until Bucky would be ready.

“You ok, man?” Sam asks.

Sam always asks in that same gentle voice. Sam cares too much. Steve swipes at his own bottom lip, trying to hold on to the memory of Bucky’s. It doesn’t really help.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Steve says, just to give him an answer.

*****

Going back to work makes things easier. No one knows about the divorce except for Peggy and Clint but even if it were a wide known fact, no one would talk about it anyway. They have goals, missions, things that need their attention more than anyone’s love life.

It also helps with exhausting Steve’s body enough to sleep. When he goes back in, he has to plough through hours and hours of blurry security camera footage, trying to follow Zemo’s steps. He doesn’t mind. It gives him a purpose for the day, something to focus on fully.

He ignores Peggy and Fury for the time being. He can deal with their little side missions later. Once he gets his hands on Zemo, once he can finally put that bastard down, once he sees him in handcuffs, behind glass, then he’ll have the mental capacity to deal with Peggy and Fury.

Steve knows that won’t be done in a day. Those Hydra fucks haven’t been around for as long as they have if they weren’t smart. But Steve is patient. He’ll find their tax evasion charges if that’s what it takes.

The irony that he’s been staying put for over two months doesn’t escape him. The one thing that Bucky ever asked of him…it’s only happening once Bucky left him. He can’t think about that. He’s been learning about spiraling lately and he’s started to get good at avoiding it. He takes deep breaths and focuses on something else instead. He moves around. He reads all these stupid articles on wellness.com and goodandwell.com and whatever comes up on google when he types in stop spiraling. He deletes all the pictures of Bucky he’s got on his phone on a whim. Then, he figures he’ll regret it later, so he saves them from his delete folder and puts it on a different folder. Progress, he thinks, is a slow journey.

*****

“I just don’t get it,” Elisabeth says around a mouthful of ribs, “ _he_ broke up with you. Why are you the one getting banned from family events?”

Steve winces. She’s just a kid, he reminds himself. She doesn’t know any better.

“I’m not banned, Lizzie. It’s just…you know, complicated.”

“He’s your nephew too. How is that fair?”

Sam looks down at his plate with a sigh. Steve doesn’t envy him. If he could, he’d stay as far away from this conversation as possible.

“We’re divorced now. He won’t be my nephew.”

Elisabeth stares at him. “You’re still family, just because Bucky decided he was tired of you…”

“Now, _that’s_ not fair. That’s your brother,” Sam interrupts gently, “you shouldn’t judge him for that decision. It’s very personal.”

Steve hangs his head. “He did what he could, just know that, alright? Don’t be angry with him. I’m fine. It’s…We’re fine.”

“You don’t even talk to each other!” She objects stubbornly. “He doesn’t talk to me either. I would have never found out about the divorce if you hadn’t told me. He obviously knows what a massive mistake he’s made…”

“Can we just,” Steve cuts sharply. His voice got too loud. He clears his throat, “can we just talk about something else than my divorce. How’s school? Now that’s a lot more interesting.”

Elisabeth shrugs but doesn’t push. Sam changes the subject. Steve stares at his plate. One day, he thinks, this won’t even hurt. One day, they’ll all laugh about it.

*****

Becca gives birth and Steve gives her a call to congratulate her and Marcus. He would love to go over and meet the baby, but Bucky’s family is all there in the hospital. He doesn’t know about the protocol there. The only family he has is not really his. He knows that Bucky has blocked him again, so he probably doesn’t want his ex-husband showing up.

Winifred still calls him to check on him, but the conversations are getting shorter and shorter. It’s weird, there’s no other words for it. It feels alien, like this is all happening to someone else. Steve misses his own mother like never before.

He had never told her about his relationship with Bucky. At the time, when she got sick, they were just teenagers fooling around. He wonders, sometimes, what she would have thought of them. If she would have helped Steve see the signs before even he had. If she could have offered some advice, if she would have comforted him through the loss of his husband.

She has been dead for sixteen years and every day, he can’t help thinking about what she would have said, if she were still alive. Some days, it’s more of a musing, something like, oh what would she have thought of this new flavor in Starbucks, she loved blueberries so much, other times, it’s a lot more painful. It’s, would she have been disappointed in me because I let the love of my life walk away from me? It’s, would she have taken my side or Bucky's? It’s, would she have been proud of me, even in dark times like this?

Grief and loss are the sort of pain that are relentless. It catches at the most inopportune times and it never lets go easy. It’s a fight to stay afloat, every time. But Steve is, god forgive him, a fighter above and he still goes on.

*****

It’s getting easier for Steve to lose track of time. He doesn’t have to get back into the field, not yet anyway, and every day looks exactly the same. If it weren’t for Sam, he probably wouldn’t have remembered about the 4th of July.

His first birthday he’s going to spend without hearing from Bucky. Sam doesn’t remind him. He doesn’t even mention Bucky. He does invite Elisabeth though, so Steve figures he must have invited Natasha too, but she’s definitely spending it with Bucky. Especially now that they’re roommates. Steve doesn’t ask about that either.

A lot of his SHIELD buddies show up. Maria Hill, Peggy, all of his STRIKE team…The old team from Afghanistan, people who go to Sam for help at the VA. It’s odd, remembering how many friends he’s got, how many people are happy to see him, offering birthday wishes and advices on dealing with the divorce. Steve takes that on the chin, nodding along. It’s ok, he figures, if people are curious. No one pries. It all comes from a good place.

Steve tries his best to keep an eye on Elisabeth, who is chatting away by Maria and Peggy, drinking what seems to be a lot more than what she should. She’s wearing big red, white and blue sunglasses and a matching tank top tucked into jean shorts that are surely too tight to breathe in. Steve doesn’t usually see Bucky in Elisabeth’s features but dressed like that, with her long hair flopping in the wind of the rooftop, she looks just like him. His heart feels too fragile, ready to fall into pieces at the faintest shake.

Elisabeth catches him staring and scampers over to him, grabbing him in a tight hug. She kisses his cheek with a loud pop and grins. He ruffles her hair and pretends to rub his face clean.

“Happy birthday!” she says for maybe the tenth time.

She’s very tipsy and Steve feels a little guilty. Maybe he shouldn’t have let her drink. She’s so young. She is over twenty-one, sure, but she’s still Bucky’s baby sister.

“I’m fine, grandpa,” she giggles, apparently reading Steve’s mind, pushing on his chest with all her strength, “I’ve been in college for four years already, this isn’t my first drink.”

“Alright, alright,” Steve says, not budging an inch, his arms crossed over his chest. She’s just as frail as she looks.

“Do you want to take a selfie?” she asks quickly, already opening her phone.

“Sure,” he replies with a slight shrug.

She holds her phone up and puts her glasses down. Steve doesn’t want to look over and be noisy but he can’t help catching a glance at what he knows is the title of the Barnes family group chat. Bucky hasn’t blocked Elisabeth. Steve’s heartbeat quickens, just a touch, at the thought of Elisabeth sending the picture to that group chat. Bucky seeing his face after a month. He swallows and pushes down that thought as deep as he can. Bucky doesn’t want to hear about him. He’s not going to be this pathetic on his birthday.

Elisabeth smiles brightly at the camera while Steve arranges his face into something presentable. She clicks it a couple of times until she seems satisfied enough. Then, her phone buzzes and a picture of all the Barnes siblings appears on her phone. They are all wearing Christmas hats and ugly sweaters, all of them pulling a different face at the camera. Steve’s breath catches his throat before he reads the caller ID. Only Becca.

“Hey Becs!” Elisabeth greets loudly, “wish Steve happy birthday!”

It’s a video call. Steve remembers quickly that Becca just had the baby, she’s definitely not at a party with Bucky. This is safe.

“Oh, hi, Steve!” Becca says happily enough.

Steve waves awkwardly. It’s not because they called each other twice since the divorce that they’re on the best terms. Steve has no idea what Bucky told her to do. Steve knows that Elisabeth has decided to set camp in his life for as long as he’ll let her, but for Becca and Alice, he doesn’t know where Bucky has drawn the line.

“Happy birthday, honey!” Becca adds. She tilts the camera down and Steve can see the baby in her arms.

“Hey there, Scott,” Steve says softly, “he’s adorable, Becs, congrats again.”

Becca takes the baby’s little arm and makes him wave at the camera, “Say hi, uncle Steve!” she prompts.

Steve warms up at that. Maybe Bucky hasn’t said anything. Maybe he’s still allowed to walk that line and figure it out for himself. Maybe this isn’t about Bucky anymore, what he does with his sisters. They’re all grown adults. He waves back at the baby, trying to get his attention. It doesn’t work, probably because he can’t realize that this is a person inside a phone.

They chat for a couple more minutes, not really catching up, not really saying anything important. The baby starts to fuss, and Becca says her goodbye.

“Be good, Beth, alright?” she warns lightly.

“I’m good, I’m great,” Elisabeth promises faintly before hanging up. She fidgets some more with her phone. “You know who should really wish you a happy birthday after all the shit he put you through?” she mumbles half coherent.

And no. Nope. Steve shakes his head strongly. “No need for that, I promise you.”

But it’s too late. She’s punched in the number. It’s another Christmas picture that appears on the phone, this one of Bucky alone, frowning at something out of shot, his eyebrows knitted, pouting, his hair up in a messy bun. Steve doesn’t know what Christmas that was. He can’t help feeling so fond.

Then the line goes dead. Bucky didn’t pick up.

“Fucking typical,” Elisabeth mutters before scampering away again.

Steve takes a deeper breath. Crisis averted. He walks over to where Peggy is sitting on her own now. He grabs another beer from the cooler. She looks up to him with a bright smile.

“You know, we never make this much of a fuss on St George’s day,” she comments.

“Oh yeah? Is that why you moved here? For the never-ending American celebrations?”

She shrugs, not taking her eyes off him. “Among other things.”

He sits down next to her and clinks their beer bottles. Things have been tense between him and Peggy since the whole Bucky debacle and Steve hasn’t known how to fix it. It’s been two months that they’ve been more or less avoiding each other.

“How are you?” Peggy asks, breaking the silence, “you look good. Better. How are you feeling, really?”

Steve inhales sharply. He hasn’t been thinking about that much. The numbness has…settled. Is it better? It’s not worse. Is he moving on? Probably not. He looks over at the New York skyline to avoid Peggy’s eyes.

“There’s good days and bad days,” he finds himself saying quietly, “it’s not all bad. Sam doesn’t complain about my cooking nearly as much as Bucky. I have a lot of free time for the many hobbies I’ve got going on.”

Peggy hums, smiling wider. “And what are those hobbies?”

“Well,” Steve starts with a smirk, “first there’s moping. Have you ever tried that? It’s great. Really helps when you do it first thing in the morning. Sets you up for the whole day.”

“Oh yes, I’ve seen articles about that.”

“Yeah, it’s getting very popular. Then, another classic, blaming myself. Also, feeling sorry for myself. That takes a big chunk of the agenda. How can I forget, going over every mistake I’ve ever made and wishing I could go back in time? Super fun, high on my recommendation list.”

“I’m taking notes,” Peggy assures him.

“Finally but not lastly, my favorite…”

“I’m listening.”

“Baking,” Steve says with the same dull voice.

Peggy laughs. Steve manages to crack a smile. He stares at her white teeth, outlined by the deep red of her lips. She takes another sip of her beer and he doesn’t take his eyes off her. Peggy has always been beautiful, he’s always known that. He’s also always been with Bucky and whoever else he had ever found attractive was more of an after thought than anything. Something more like an artist appreciation for the human form.

But now, Bucky was gone. Bucky wanted him gone from his life. And so what if Bucky had believed Steve could have ever cheated on him with Peggy? He wasn’t the one who had just walked out, who had taken all their years together, put it all neatly away in boxes, never to be seen again and fucked off. He’s a free man now. He can look all he wants.

He’s not surprised to see Peggy hold his eyes just the same. He’s always known that Peggy had some sort of crush on him, since they first met in Afghanistan, but he’s never believed it to be serious. Now, though, what would be the harm? It could just be sex. No one would have to know. It could work out.

“Well, captain,” Peggy says quietly, “maybe I should join you one of these days. You seem like you know how to have a good time.”

This time, Steve laughs too. Yeah, it really could work.

*****

Kissing a woman isn’t at all like what Steve is used to. Or maybe it’s kissing Peggy that’s different from kissing Bucky. After all, for all of Steve’s adult life, he’s only ever kissed Bucky. That’s all he can compare it to. Bucky never liked to take his time. He was always hurried, frantic, desperate to get release. He hated being teased, being made to wait. But, oh, he was so sweet once Steve had drawn it out just long enough. Just enough to make him beg. Bucky could beg so pretty, too. God, Steve had loved him.

But that was over. He would be present. He brushes the hair off Peggy’s forehead and stares right into her deep brown eyes. She really is gorgeous. He kisses her again, softer this time, and she melts under his hands. He knows how strong she really is, so he enjoys how easily she gives in to him, like there is nowhere she’d rather be, like she trusts him completely.

It’s been two months since the 4th of July party. It’s not really professional of them to be making out in the middle of an assignment, when they’re supposed to be on guard, but they both know this mission will give them nothing. It’s been three months since Steve last went into the field and he can tell when Fury is giving him bullshit objectives to keep him busy. So, really, who the fuck cares.

“Steve,” Peggy stops him, pushing both her palms into his chest, “I’m…I mean…Obviously, I want this too, but I don’t want…It’s only been what? Three months? And I know I was there when…”

“Don’t make this about Bucky,” he warns strongly, “because it isn’t. This is you and me, ok?”

She shakes her head. “I know,” she says tightly, “this is just very awkward for me, I’m sure you understand.”

“You mean because of SHIELD?”

“People will talk and it’s just…”

Steve steps aside. It was stupid, in the end, to think this could be easy and carefree. Something that no one would know about. Of course it isn’t what Peggy wants. It isn’t what she deserves either. Steve is such an asshole.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think,” he says quietly, “forget it, it’s stupid.”

She stares at him for a moment too long but lets it go. She goes back to where she was keeping watch, just a moment or two ago. Steve can’t even remember how they got to where they were. He swallows and goes back to his reports.

*****

“I never learned how to make crepes,” Steve declares flatly one morning.

Sam, who has by now gotten used to Steve’s odd statements, only raises one eyebrow, and nods his head. “You can learn now. One perk of being single for you. You can cook for yourself. No one over your shoulder, nagging you the whole time. Freedom.”

Sam, wonderful Sam, who doesn’t understand Steve’s cryptic words. Steve loves him, he does, but he just doesn’t get it.

“I wanted to learn how, for Bucky. I wanted to wake him up with fucking pancakes, eggs…Crepes. I wanted that life for him.”

Sam has no answer to that. He shrugs and moves on. Sam does understand things. He picks up on little queues. When Steve wants to unburden, when he wants to talk, when he wants to be left alone. Steve doesn’t really know what he wants right now.

“Guess I…,” Steve stops, a little choked up. Why is he choking up now? It’s only goddamn thin pancakes.

“I don’t think the crepes would have made the difference, buddy,” Sam says gently, taking the mixing bowl away from Steve’s iron grip, “I think Bucky never asked for them. You wanted to give that to him but that wasn’t what he asked, and you didn’t realize.”

Steve wants to scream. He wants to punch into something until the tension in his shoulders disappear. He hates this. He wants to see Bucky. He wants to see his face, he wants to see him smile, see him turn around with a huff, a little pissed off, with knitted eyebrows. “Really, Rogers?” Steve wants nothing more than hear him say that.

But Bucky is gone from his life. Steve signed the papers. Steve let him go. It’s all his fault. He could have learned how to make some fucking thin, ridiculous French pancakes and make Bucky breakfast once in a while. He didn’t because he’s a goddamn moron. A fucking idiot. He lost Bucky. He loved him with all he had, and it still wasn’t _enough_.

Steve feels Sam press a hand between his shoulder blades, and he blows out a breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding.

“You ok?”

“Fine,” Steve grits out. “It’s just crepes. I can make crepes.”

Sam nods again and stays silent. Gives Steve space. Steve hates that he has to be babied through his grief, that he has no idea how to handle it. Seventeen goddamn years of relationship, gone into the wind, and he doesn’t know how to function like a normal human being.

*****

Steve manages to make the crepe batter. He makes Peggy some crepes. It’s not the same.

*****

Things don’t get easier with Peggy now that they kissed on a mission. It’s more of a tension now. Every time they spend any time together, there’s always a flutter of excitement below the surface. Something of what could be if they let it happen. Steve doesn’t tell Sam. He doesn’t tell anyone. He believes that Peggy is entitled to that privacy until he can figure out what he wants.

There haven’t been many things he thought of wanting since Bucky left that day in May. It’s weird, how easy it had become for him to forget about what he wanted. He couldn’t remember what flavor of ice cream was his favorite. Everything tasted so bland. He never wanted to go to the cinema, watch a movie. If he would put the TV on, it was only to fill the silence. To want someone physically, actively, he hadn’t realized he had forgotten about that too.

He tries to think about what would happen. He’s never been with a woman. He knows he wants to see, to feel what it’s like. He knows he wants Peggy in that way, too. He knows he shouldn’t because it’s partially to piss Bucky off. It’s almost ridiculous. In a way, it’s a big fuck you to Bucky. You left me, you abandoned me and now look who got me, you asshole. Maybe you didn’t want me anymore but look who did.

It’s pathetic, really, is what it is. But he looks at it like a thread he could follow through the maze. Nothing makes sense to him anymore. The world is spinning in the wrong direction now, so why shouldn’t he take Peggy on a date? It’s not like it could make things worse. And it certainly could become better. He could feel something else than despair and loneliness.

So, he thinks about how Bucky went to Natasha, had her write all the papers in the right language, had her go over their whole lives, carefully, patiently, without saying a word. Without even hinting that he could walk out any day. And he thinks, maybe he should do that too. He goes to his own lawyer, because he’s got one now, thanks to Bucky. He gets it all printed out, a consensual relationship agreement, the one SHIELD requires of its employees and drives down to Peggy’s apartment, in the Village, puts it flat on the table and asks her if she wants to sign it.

“Steve?” she sounds unsure, reading through the couple of pages.

He takes a step closer to her. He puts one hand as gently as possible on her hip and looks her right in the eye.

“People can talk. They probably will. With this though, you’ll be protected. I don’t want to put you in an awkward position, but I want you to know I want to do this right.”

She swallows, not taking her eyes off him either. Her lips curl into a smirk. “That’s awfully romantic of you, darling.”

She’s the one to close the distance between them. She hangs her hands on his neck and brings him down to kiss her. Steve smiles against her lips. She’s small but won’t let that stop her. She tightens her grip and hoist herself up. Steve barely has enough time to catch her. She wraps her legs around his waist. He cradles her thighs, catching her by her ass. She moans, breaking the kiss.

It’s not something Steve ever thought he’d need but now he feels desperate for it. He might die if he doesn’t go through with it now. His brain finally blanks out, completely still and for the first time in four months, he draws his first breath.

*****

“I saw James at the Christmas market,” Peggy declares one morning, barely dressed, as she stirs sugar into her tea, like this is no big deal. Like this would mean nothing at all to Steve, after he had to guess Bucky’s whereabouts for months. It’s December now so it would make sense.

“Bucky?” he says, just to confirm.

He’s hanging by her lips as she replies, “yes, James. He was shopping for Natasha, with Pietro. You remember him? The hairdresser? Pietro Maximoff.”

Of course, he does. Fucking Pietro. Young, devilishly handsome, silver tongue, always staring at Bucky like he hung the stars and the moon. Steve had never liked him. And now, he was hanging out with Bucky. _Christmas shopping_ with Bucky.

“He looked well,” Peggy goes on, “he cut his hair very short.”

“Like in the army?” Steve feels like he’s about to jump out of his own skin. Bucky was at the Christmas market. If he had gone with Peggy, he would have bumped into Bucky too. Bucky with hair from back in the army. Bucky with Pietro Maximoff.

“No, not quite.” Peggy still hasn’t caught on with Steve’s internal turmoil and that’s probably for the best. “More like when he was in college, do you remember?”

Of course, he does. He hasn’t forgotten his whole life he’s spent with Bucky because they broke up. Bucky was so fragile, back then, when he got into college. He had just come out of the army, he was adjusting back. That was when he had just met Natasha, when she was still figuring herself out. When she didn’t call Steve as Bucky’s attorney.

“Pietro cut his hair apparently. They’re quite the pair, these two.”

Steve swallows his anger. Bucky broke up with him, of course he can see whoever he wants to see. Steve is dating Peggy, so what could he object to, really? Rage still seeps through his bloodstream. Fucking Pietro. Of course, he’d try to get into Bucky’s pants as soon as Steve was out of the way. The little shit. Steve never could stand him, and he was right.

Bucky could be so unaware sometimes. He never believed it when Steve said people flirted with him. He even called Steve a jealous asshole. He had never realized how the world saw him, his light blue eyes and delicious pout. God, Steve had loved him with such a passion. He’d have turn the world upside down just to see a smile on that face.

“I’m glad,” Steve grits out through clenched teeth, “that he’s happy.”

“Yeah, you really look the part,” Peggy mocks with a little smile.

Steve chooses to ignore that. He turns his face away from her and focuses on inhaling then exhaling. It’s probably nothing. They’ve been friends for years. They’re both Jewish, that couldn’t have been a date. What do they care about the _Christmas_ market anyway? Steve blows out a deeper breath. It’s fine, it’s great. Bucky isn’t alone. Steve is so very glad.

*****

Steve volunteers to drive Elisabeth to the airport and see her off. It hasn’t been easy lately, with Winnifred finding out about Steve and Peggy. He doesn’t feel guilty, not entirely, but he doesn’t want to disappoint the closest thing he’s got to a mom. If he were to lose that relationship too…He can’t even think about it.

He walks Elisabeth all the way to her terminal, his hands in his pockets. He’s already given her Christmas gift and she promised to open it on Christmas day with the rest of her stuff, like she normally would have. It’s very odd, to have to do this for the first time ever but this isn’t up to Steve. This is Bucky’s family and he respects it.

Steve looks at the bright panel that says Indianapolis, Boarding in red letters. He holds out his arms to give Elisabeth one last hug. She holds on to him and lets go with a smile.

“It’s not fair that you don’t get to come too…”

“Lizzie…,” Steve cuts.

“I know. You’re ok. And…You’re happy, right?” Elisabeth asks and she looks so hopeful and full of love that he can’t tell her the truth.

He tries his best to smile. “Yeah. I’m…You know, I’m getting there. But I’m happy, so far.”

Sadly, desperately, he hopes Elisabeth says this back to Bucky. That he believes that Steve is doing much better, that he moved on and doesn’t think about him every day of his life. That he’s with Peggy and they’re doing good. That he’s not faking it, going through every minute like he’s still in the trenches.

“I’m really glad, Steve,” Elisabeth goes on.

She opens her arms this time and he hugs her tightly again. She’s just a kid.

“You have a safe trip, alright? Call me when you get there.”

“I will,” she promises, “and on Christmas day too. Keep your phone on.”

“Sure thing,” he says with a little smile, waving to the gates, “don’t miss your flight now.”

She nods and waves as she walks towards it. Steve watches her pull out her boarding pass and disappear into the customs area. His heart tightens. This is what his life is like now. He swallows, puts his head down and walks away.

*****

Steve is almost embarrassed to spend Christmas with Sam’s family. Sam shouldn’t have to invite him, drag him around like a lost puppy. But it’s getting very hard to argue with Sam now that they live together and there is nothing that Steve can hide. He is miserable, that much is true. He’s never spent Christmas without Bucky while he wasn’t on an assignment.

Last year, he missed it, being stuck in Argentina, chasing a trail that ended up being nothing but smoke in the air. He had come back mid-January and Bucky had been so pissed off but so quiet about it that it was unsettling. As they did with most of their issues, Steve had chosen to ignore it. He had promised Bucky to make it up to him, to take him away for his birthday in this spa retreat, in the middle of nowhere, where they could just fuck all day and sleep all night. That had helped until Steve had missed that. Looking back now, it was almost laughable that Steve had been surprised by the divorce papers. He had been a terrible husband.

But no spiraling on Christmas, he had promised Sam.

The Wilsons are a welcoming bunch too. Steve had met Sam’s parents before and his little brother had stayed in Harlem with them once or twice. It’s not like he’s a complete stranger barging in on Christmas but it still doesn’t feel exactly right. Steve craves Winnifred’s cooking, Alice’s dry remarks, Elisabeth’s constant stream of consciousness. Bucky’s shy smiles. Bucky’s warm eyes. Bucky. It’s been six months exactly since he’s seen him and the last time that had happened, it was because Bucky had been declared KIA.

Steve breathes in deep. No spiraling. He makes himself useful in the kitchen, helps out Darlene Wilson as much as he can, tries to laugh and be a little more pleasant that he usually is.

It goes well. It’s only a weekend. The night of the 24th is spent playing board games and drinking mulled wine. The morning of the 25th, they all huddle by the Christmas tree and exchange presents. It’s nothing like Christmas with the Barneses and the hundreds of silly traditions Bucky and Steve had come up with over the years but it’s familiar enough that Steve can follow and not stick out like the sore thumb he feels like.

He tries to call Winnifred but is left with the voicemail. She must be busy, he figures, with having her children home. The one who calls him is, of course, Elisabeth. He’s very grateful to her. She’s remained his connection to the family throughout everything. He hadn’t expected that.

“Hey Lizzie,” he greets warmly, “merry Christmas, honey, how’s Indiana?”

“Boring, as, hell,” she groans, enunciating every word with a pause, “you know what? You should almost be glad you’re missing it.”

Steve swallows. There aren’t a lot of things he wouldn’t give up to be there with them, but he doesn’t say that.

“Well, if that’s any comfort, Virginia is just what you’d expect. But it’s nice. It’s quiet. The whole neighborhood is lit up.”

Elisabeth nods thoughtfully. “There’s a lot of light here too. Can’t wait to go back to New York though. Do you know what’s happening for New Year's Eve?”

“No, tell me,” Steve says gently, not forcing the smile on his lips.

It doesn’t take her much to go into long monologues. She’s a great storyteller. Steve knows she’ll be great with kids, once she’s finished with her masters. He’s very proud of seeing her grow into such a bright young woman, funny and charismatic.

She’s only interrupted by Winnifred who barges in with a full plate and a glass of water.

“Liz, baby,” she starts, “oh, is that Steve? Elisabeth!” she chastises immediately.

Steve winces. He waves awkwardly. “Hi, Winnie, merry Christmas,” he tries.

“Steve, my darling,” Winnifred grits out, putting down the plate slowly on Elisabeth’s desk, never taking her eyes off her youngest daughter, “I’m so happy to see you, I am but Jaime…Liz, didn’t I tell you to be nice.”

Elisabeth blows out an angry breath, turning to face her mother. “What am I doing wrong, ma? Bucky can’t hear me here! I’m in my room!”

“Now, don’t take this tone with me…”

“Or what, huh! What! You’re going to ignore Steve some more, on _Christmas_?”

“Lizzie,” Steve tries, “Winnie, hey.”

But they’re lost to him now. Winnifred walks out of the frame with a huff. Elisabeth stands out, snatches her phone from where it was sitting on the desk and marches towards her. Steve can only witness all this, being dragged around. He can barely hear anything. The phone crashes on some surface and he’s left with a clear shot of the ceiling of what looks like the kitchen if his memory serves him well.

Steve strains his ear. He shouldn’t do this. He should just hang up. But he’s pretty sure that’s Bucky’s voice there. Hearing his low, even muffled voice does something to Steve. He misses him so much. He could just say Merry Christmas. They don’t have to talk more.

“He didn’t cheat, ma. They’re divorced and he’s happy. Even Bucky is seeing someone!” Elisabeth yells.

Steve freezes in his seat. Bucky has a boyfriend? Who? Since when?

There is some rustling, Steve can barely make out the voices in the back. It’s probably Alice and is it Bucky? They’re arguing a lot more quietly now.

Elisabeth is still the closest to the phone so she’s the one that Steve hears the clearest.

“What? It’s not like I told Steve!” She begrudges loudly.

Well. He should definitely say something now. Or just hang up. No one seems to have noticed he’s still on the phone.

“I don’t have a boyfriend!” Bucky yells back after a minute or so of more quiet arguing, “I don’t have a boyfriend because if I did, I would have told all of you, alright? I would have had a goddamn party in the middle of Central Park! But I don’t! I’m pathetic and still not over my fucking divorce and I can’t do it, ok? I have enough to deal with as it is, so if all of you harpies could lay off my love life for one single damn day, I would be very grateful!”

Steve is ashamed that he breathes a little easier at that. So, it’s not that easy for Bucky either. He didn’t just walk out of Steve’s life scot free.

But now, he can’t just stay on the phone. A silence settles in. He clears his throat before he speaks as loudly but still as calm as he can possibly make his voice.

“I’m so sorry. I just wanted to wish all of you a Merry Christmas.”

He doesn’t wait to hear a response and hangs up the call. He blows out all the air in his lungs. He feels so guilty. He shouldn’t have listened in.

He goes back in the living room where the whole Wilson family has gathered again and tries his best not to linger on Bucky’s frantic tone.

*****

Steve bites his lips thoughtfully. He shouldn’t really do this. It’s been a week since they’ve been back from their Christmas break and Steve just can’t take it anymore.

“Man, what?” Sam almost barks.

They don’t have many household rules now that they got the new place that is entirely both of theirs. But Sam does insist on never being bothered while he’s marinating his ribs. Steve shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Sam lets go of the meat and washes his hands with a sigh.

“Something you want to ask?” he says, leaning on the doorway of the kitchen, facing Steve.

Steve blows out a breath. “Does, uh…I know this is stupid, but do you know if Bucky is dating?”

“How the hell would I know?”

“You see him,” Steve objects.

“No man, I haven’t seen short-hair-Bucky, the mythical creature that lives in Natasha’s apartment.”

Steve nods without any other words. He doesn’t even have the heart to smile.

He can’t stop going back to Pietro’s Instagram page. It’s so pretentious and full of models with complicated hairdos, covered in glitter and dressed with what looks like the most random collection of clothes. There’s that one picture though, one of Pietro and Bucky, their faces too close together for Steve’s comfort. Like they’re hugging tightly.

Half their faces are covered by Bucky’s scarf. Steve recognizes this scarf. He used to tease Bucky by saying this was a whole blanket he carried around his neck. Now, he puts it on Pietro’s face.

Steve can’t see their lips, but he can tell by the crinkle at the side of their eyes that they’re smiling. There’s snow in Bucky’s short hair and his cheeks are reddened by the cold. The caption is just two snowflake emojis. Most of Pietro’s captions are a string of emojis.

How could Bucky have fallen for this guy, of all people on Earth? But then again, maybe they’re just friends. Maybe this is one funny selfie that Pietro thought of taking just to stand closer to Bucky. Steve hopes it didn’t do the trick. That Bucky stepped away and kept a respectful distance the whole time after.

Sam hasn’t stopped staring at him.

“I’m just wondering, that’s all,” he promises, walking away, “let me know when dinner’s ready.”

“Oh, now you care about my ribs!”

*****

It’s not that Steve forgot about Zemo, about SHIELD, about Fury. He actively tried to ignore it. He thought, hopelessly, in the back of his mind, that maybe it would solve itself. That Fury would suddenly turn around and decide to trust him. That Zemo would fuck up, somewhere close, that they’d bring him in, that Steve could face him, finally, and unleash twelve years of stored anger and unabashed rage. That he’d pay for all his crimes. That Steve would be reassigned to missions he actually cared about, things that mattered, things that made it feel worth it to have let Bucky go.

In a way, it did. Except everyone forgot to let him know.

Zemo was in SHIELD’s custody. Not for being a neo-Nazi, for having committed an absurd amount of war crimes. No, he was brought in as informant. They had managed to catch him over trafficking narcotics, which was one of the ways HYDRA made money these days, but they wanted him to cough up names and arrest the whole top of HYDRA. In theory, it was a solid plan. In practice, Steve knew better than believe words out of a Nazi scumbag’s mouth.

Steve barges in Nick Fury’s office, Maria on his heel, shouting after him. He can’t hear her words over the drumming in his temple. Zemo had Bucky. He experienced god knows what on Bucky. Now, he’s having coffee in an interrogation room. He’s being fed and clothed on the dime of the US government.

“Had a nice break, captain? Nice to see you too,” Nick says mildly.

Steve walks over and grabs on his collar. “When were you going to tell me?” Steve couldn’t help but growl. His grip didn’t falter.

“You might want to remember you’re talking to your commanding officer here, cap.”

“You were in Afghanistan. Bucky was part of your team, _colonel_ ,” Steve kept his voice low but his tone was just as sharp, “you were in that lab, you saw the chair, same as me, and you want to tell me this is necessary?”

Maria tilts Steve’s shoulder backward. “Steve! Let go!”

Steve blows out a breath, but does as he’s told, not moving an inch further.

“What happened to Barnes,” Nick begins.

“Don’t you dare say his name,” Steve cut sharply, “not when Zemo’s here. Not when you’re going to let him walk away.”

“He’ll serve his time,” Nick says but Steve knows it’s a lie.

“Is it his tech?” Steve spits out, “the government wants in on that? Is this your paperclip, Nick? You want to be remembered for this shit?”

Nick’s jaw clenches. His stare is like steel. Steve has faced worse. None of them move.

“What happened to Barnes,” Nick repeats, “has nothing to do with this operation. You’re not cleared for this. That’s why you weren’t told. While you were off, frolicking with your girlfriend…”

“Is that how it is,” Steve says, his fists tightening by his thighs.

“While you were off,” Nick repeats louder, “we were doing some good work here. Zemo will have his day in court. What do you want? An execution? You want to pull the trigger on that bastard? Think that’ll bring your husband back home?”

This is too far. They both know it. Steve swings with all the fury that has lived under his skin for six months now.

“Steve!” Maria cries.

Nick waves her off, cradling his jaw. “OK, I deserved that but you need to get yourself under control, cap. We’re not at war anymore. This is what we do now.”

Steve is ready to take another punch. He breathes heavily, his mouth open. He can’t feel his chest. After Afghanistan, he followed Nick through whatever black ops he needed him on, trying to destroy HYDRA bit by bit. It hadn’t been enough. When Nick had joined SHIELD, he had made Steve believe this was the way. This was how they’d beat them. Now, they were assimilating them and they had made Steve watch, helpless and completely unaware.

“Not anymore it’s not,” Steve barks out at Fury or Hill, either, both, “I don’t want anything to do with this organization anymore. I quit. Send whatever breach of contract to my lawyer. I don’t give a fuck, bill me, maybe that’ll pay for some Nazi integration.”

Nick and Maria stare at each other, their mouth open. Maria’s hand falls to the side. Nick, still rubbing at his jaw, blood trickling down his cheek from his split lip, stays silent. Steve marches out. Fuck it. Fuck them. Fuck it all to hell.

*****

It’s really terrible timing that it’s New Year’s Eve three days after his little blowout at SHIELD. He hasn’t heard from his lawyer yet. He doesn’t know if Fury hopes that he’ll come around. If Peggy has said anything about it, behind his back, since they seemed to be such good pals.

He doesn’t know what to do about Peggy. After the thrill of something so new, so foreign to his own experiences, he’s found out that this doesn’t change much. The numbness has found its way back. Peggy is wonderful, truly, and he gives her nothing in return. He can see in her warm smiles, in the way she tilts her head up when she laughs, that she’s happy, that she wants him in that way, but he can’t fake it anymore. Maybe it’s the new year ringing, maybe it’s his gut telling him to be brave, for once.

He shouldn’t do this at a party, of all places, and he knows that much. Sam is there besides him. The atmosphere is friendly enough, even though probably half of his team at SHIELD is here and they probably all know that he punched Fury in the jaw and that he quit in the most dramatic way possible. He spots Natasha, with Clint and Maria and avoids them. He still hasn’t recovered from seeing her name on the divorce papers. He had believed they were friends, that she would have come to him if Bucky were hurting that badly…No spiraling on New Year’s Eve either, he had said to Sam.

Peggy finds him though because she looked for him. She takes his hand and guides him to a quieter room, where he can watch the fireworks without the noise. She’s so thoughtful. There’s so much guilt brewing in Steve's belly, ready to poison his body whole.

He knows he’s been avoiding her since Christmas. She probably does too, she’s smart enough. She strokes his face gently, angling for a kiss but he pushes her away. He shrugs, putting his hands in his pocket like he’s sixteen and doesn’t know how to break up with someone. It’s all so stupid, he can’t stand it.

“I’m sorry, Peggy, I really am,” he tries to keep his voice steady. He owes her that much. “I can’t do this anymore. I thought I could but…It’s too much. I can’t put this on you.”

She doesn’t move an inch. She only nods. She seems frozen in place. “I should have known, really,” she says with the ghost of a smile, “it was all terrible timing, darling.”

“I know, it’s not your fault, I…”

“Please, Steve,” she goes on, her voice tighter, “I don’t need to hear it, I promise. This is…This is fine. I understand. I…Maybe thought that it could have gone differently.”

“I never wanted to hurt you, Pegs, I promise.”

She nods again, looking away this time. “Oh, I know. Of course. It’s just all...,” she clears her throat, pulling at her dress to cover herself some more, like she needs some sheltering from Steve. “I should have expected this.”

“I quit SHIELD, I’m sure you know.”

She hums.

“They…They got Zemo, Pegs, they’re going to let him stay in the States. I mean…”

“I know, darling,” she cuts him in that tone, like she’s holding back so much, “we’ve all got to make sacrifices for the greater good sometimes. I’ll see you around.”

Just like that, she’s gone. Steve’s hands curl into fists. So, she knew too. Everyone knew. They made a fool out of him. It wasn’t just about Bucky, either. How many more of Bucky were there, that didn’t make it? How many families had to hear about their sons or daughters not coming back, because of this one bastard, that was now sheltered by SHIELD? Steve can’t think straight.

Behind him, there’s a roar. Ten! The crowd shouts. Nine! Eight!

He can’t even shut it out.

Seven! Six! Five!

He folds down on the soft carpet. Another first without Bucky. One of many to come.

Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!

*****

Steve could get used to retirement, he tries to assure Sam. It’s not nearly as boring as he thought it would be. It is about just as lonely as he’d imagine, but that he can get used to.

“You’re thirty-three, man,” Sam keeps on complaining, one day when they’re having Maria over for dinner, after things have cooled off at SHIELD, “what are you going to do, travel the world? Until you’re of retirement age? The actual, normal people retirement age?”

Steve shrugs, one beer in his hand. “Yeah, why not? Maybe I’d find someone on my travels, who knows? Settle down in…I don’t know. I’ve never been anywhere.”

“I think you’ll get bored,” Maria interjects with a smile, “no mission, no objective. You’re not much of a far niente sort of guy.”

“I could be. I could relax. On a beach, somewhere.”

“You hate the beach,” Sam points out.

“Maybe I’ll like the beach, someplace else. Maybe it’s the American beaches I don’t like.”

Maria and Sam look at each other then snort. Steve looks down at his plate, defeated. “Alright, maybe not the beach. The mountain, then. It doesn’t matter, I can find something to do.”

“You know he used to draw?” Sam said, ignoring Steve and his nonsense, “he was so good at it. He used to spend all his down time drawing Barnes. It’s actually really surprising no one said anything back then because the way Steve used to follow him around like a lost puppy was very obvious.”

“Hey,” Steve protests weakly.

“Steve Rogers, the artist,” Maria muses, “why don’t you pick that back up in your retirement, cap? You could have exhibitions. Maybe becomes famous in your old age.”

“Maybe I will. Maybe you guys won’t laugh so much when I sell my paintings for millions.”

“Even before that, I know this guy,” Maria goes on, “ex-military too, he works for Stark Industries now, he’s got his own firm and everything. They do all sorts of graphic design work. Maybe you should give him a call. He could get you up to speed on the technology the kids used these days.”

Steve moves around the peas in his plate. “I don’t want a mission.”

“It wouldn’t be a mission. It’d be an internship at most. Maybe you’d like it,” Maria assures him.

Steve looks up to find Sam staring at him with a big grin on his face. He knows they’re right. He puts his hands up. “Alright, I can give it a try. Maybe I’d like that.”

“To be honest, from what you come from, an office job at a graphic design firm will be just like retirement,” Sam says.

*****

Steve starts at Coulson’s firm. He gets to head the illustration department. It would seem like a big deal, something underserved, if it wasn’t so small and new. He’s got a couple of kids under him. Everything is just getting started and most of the staff is ex-military too. Apparently, the guy loves to bring out something creative out of people too comfortable standing behind rifles. Steve tries not to think too much about it. He fits in well enough.

Sam’s next mission though, it seems, is to get Steve to talk to a therapist. For all that he adores Sam and everything he has done for him over the years, especially since the divorce, he flat out refuses.

“You are literally the poster boy for depression!” Sam yells at him one day, when the argument is getting to a dead-end again. “You either never sleep or sleep fifteen hours a day! You either don’t move for the whole weekend or run until you pass out from exhaustion! You need help, man, and you won’t hear it from me.”

Steve looks away. He can’t face Sam, not when he’s like this.

“I’m getting you an appointment with Dr. Kaplan. If this is what it takes, it’s what it takes. You’re getting your life back together.”

“This isn’t about Bucky,” he manages to keep his voice low even though he wants to scream. The rage, again, swells up against his ribcage. “Don’t make it about Bucky.”

“Whatever, man,” Sam grumbles, “we both know you were barely holding on before, but I can’t stand by and watch anymore.”

Sam crouches down to Steve’s height where he’s sitting on the sofa. He puts both his hands on Steve’s cheeks and makes him look down.

“I love you, you know that? You deserve to be happy. You deserve to feel good about yourself and right now, you don’t realize that. So, you’re going to take some help, you’re going to get into shape and I’m going to be there all the way, ok? You don’t have to worry about that. I’m in your corner.”

Steve swallows tightly, his throat suddenly too dry to talk. “Ok,” he finally says, too low, too quiet.

“Good!” Sam exclaims, bouncing up, too happy.

Steve manages a smile. Sam leaves to make the phone call, Steve assumes. He stays right where he is. He hears Sam make arrangement. Sam comes back in the room.

“How’s next Tuesday working for you?” he half-yells.

“Fine,” Steve replies loudly enough to be heard from across the room.

Sam confers with whoever is on the other side of the line then hangs up. He comes back into the living room and flops down on the sofa in front of Steve.

“Tuesday, 1830, you and Dr. Kaplan, clear?”

Steve nods. He’s never going to be able to repay Sam for all his kindness.

“Thank you, Sam,” he says finally, probably a little too late.

Sam looks right at him, open as always. “These things we do,” he recites calmly, with a wide smile. Steve smiles back.

*****

“I’m just going to start with standard questions if that’s alright with you,” Dr. Kaplan says gently.

Steve nods his approval.

“Have you been in therapy before?”

Steve swallows around his awkwardness. “Yes, once. It was mandated by my CO. I, uh, got into overly violent behavior on a mission once. I think that’s the term they used.”

She nods, just as calm, like she’s heard this a thousand times before. “Would you mind talking about that behavior with me?”

“No, it’s fine. It was years ago. I…Well, there’s no really better way to say it. I cracked someone’s skull open. When I said there were extenuating circumstances, they didn’t really want to listen…”

“Such as?” she encourages.

“It was a Nazi skull, for once. And he had kidnapped my boyfriend and tortured him for almost a year, so I wasn’t really keen on listening to what he had to say.”

Dr. Kaplan hums, taking some notes. Steve feels horribly uneasy.

“Would you say you got something positive out of that treatment?”

“Never met a Nazi I didn’t want to crack the skull of, but I’m sure that’s unrelated,” he tries for light humor, but he can feel how flat it falls.

“What about dealing with your partner’s experience at the hands of his torturers? Did the treatment help with that?”

Steve finds himself quieted by that. They hadn’t touched much of what Bucky went through when he had been put in therapy for his anger issues. Mostly because at the time, he couldn’t have openly admitted to their relationship.

“Don’t ask, don’t tell didn’t help, no,” he says with a little shrug.

“Ah, yes, of course, I’m sorry,” she replies, nodding again, like she gets it. “What about your partner, did he receive treatment? Did you ever partake in it?”

Steve shakes his head. “Bucky got an honorable discharge after he was recovered. We went back to the States and he got in college…We never had the time.”

“He was a prisoner of war for a full year and never got treated afterwards?”

Steve winces. “He went through reintegration. He always said he didn’t remember much. That he just needed to focus into something else, that talking made things worse…I just…I didn’t know what else to do.”

Dr. Kaplan nods gently, a little sway of the head. “What about now, what does your partner think of you seeking treatment, is also seeking treatment now?”

Steve doesn’t know what to do with himself. He stares at his hands in his lap. He clenches and unclenches his fists.

“We, uh, we got a divorce. Last year. We don’t talk anymore.”

She seems to realize his discomfort and moves on to what probably is the next question on this new customer form.

“I’m sorry to hear that. What are looking for now, what would you say are your goals, what you want to work through during our time together?”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought about that.” He almost says, I thought you were just going to fix me. Obviously, it wasn’t that easy. “I guess…I don’t know what makes me happy these days. I quit my career. Something I had been building on since I was eighteen. Before that, I got a divorce. More recently, I was seeing this woman and I broke up with her…The past year has just been for shit, if I’m honest.”

“You’re looking to get better at living, basically?” she asks with a smile, gentle as anything she does.

“I don’t know if you’re in that business, but sure, pretty much,” Steve says with the same type of smile.

She chuckles. “Well, I’m more in the business of dealing with whatever life throws at you. At navigating. Does that seem like that would help you? Figuring out these tools that you can use in your daily life?”

“Yes, sure,” Steve finds himself nodding along Dr Kaplan, “when can we start?”

*****

Steve has a rhythm now. Therapy, work, going out with Sam and his buddies. He follows his doc’s advice, he takes his pills, he keeps his head up. Something loosens in his chest. He breathes easier. He’s got more energy on some morning. Things even out. He sleeps a normal amount. He exercises a normal amount. He looks at his hidden folder of pictures of him and Bucky over the years a normal amount.

Every day is still a battle, but he realizes he’s got a choice now. He can fight, he can resist, he can let it wash over him, he can use whatever technique he’s learning. He doesn’t have to stand up through the storm and hope he won’t drown anymore. It’s getting better. It’s one step at a time. 

In the morning, at Coulson’s company, there’s always someone in charge of the coffee orders. Steve is happy to oblige this morning. He’s done this maybe ten times already. The mundanity of it is comforting, in a way. He heads down quickly. He’s going through everyone’s orders on the group chat with a smile, whistling slightly to himself.

He comes out the elevators, still with eyes on his phone. At this time of the day, the lobby is usually only starting to fill up, but some asshole is already just bumping into everything and everyone with that look on his face like he…

He looks awfully like…

No way.

Steve freezes in his spot. The miserable jerk walks right into him. It takes a lot of strength from Steve not to open his arms and wrap him in a tight hug, never to let go.

Instead, he blurts out, “Bucky?”


End file.
